


Day 11: Fenrys x Hunt

by perseusjacksonjasongrace



Series: Valentines Day Crackship Challenge [11]
Category: Crescent City Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Day 11, M/M, crackships keep fandom alive, fds fanfic, fds series, valentines day crackship challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perseusjacksonjasongrace/pseuds/perseusjacksonjasongrace
Summary: “I did it again.”
Relationships: fenrys/hunt, hunt/fenrys
Series: Valentines Day Crackship Challenge [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144028
Kudos: 8





	Day 11: Fenrys x Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> This contains explicit sexual content and is not intended for persons under the age of 18. Discretion is advised.  
> CW: smut, alcohol use

"Hunt hurry your fucking ass up," A head of wine-red and streaky gold pops around the door, frown firmly in place. "I want to get there before the two for one special."

Hunt Athalar rolls his eyes at his best friend, and puts the second earring in, a golden snake curling around itself and brushing against the pulse at his neck. He surveys his look in the mirror, black button down, almost completely unbuttoned, and tucked loosely into dark jeans. Jet black combat boots make the cuffs of his jeans scrunch up, and hide his hideously neon socks. Bryce would be amused; everyone else would not.

His hair is falling in some odd style, parting in the middle and falling into his eyes, which are lined with his friend's cobalt blue eyeliner. He likes the way it makes his irises look, like swirling pools of ink in a stormy sea.

The gold chain he never takes off, a memory of a friend, sits in the middle of his chest, right next to the drumbeat of his heart.

"Will you stop admiring yourself?" Bryce walks in, looking devilish in a red satin number that barely covers her ass with straps thin enough to be classified as dental floss. She twirls in her heels, a matching shade to her golden streaks of hair and his own jewellery. "You should admire me instead."

His eyes spark as she stops in front of him, perfect balance allowing her to sashay into a graceful pose even on those towering stilts.

"You look like a goddess."

She gasps dramatically, whiskey eyes twinkling with delight. "Oh you are a charmer. If I wasn't so terribly in love with my darling Aelin I'd marry you."

He pushes her gently, going back to studying himself in the mirror, black wings ruffling as he preens. The soft light of the room catches on his feathers, making them glisten the exact shade of the setting sun.

"Gods you are vain today," Bryce comments, a playful eyebrow raised.

"I plan to get fucked tonight," He smirks at her, "I need to make sure I look fuckable."

She gives him a once over and then tugs at her finger, before grabbing his hand and placing something cool on it. He looks down to see a ring. A simple flush band, with a single moonstone embedded in the center. He gives her a frown, a silent question in his features.

"Just trust me," She gives her secret smile—the one that's gotten them into more trouble than he cares to admit— and pats his arm before stepping out with a "hurry up" gesture.

He snaps his teeth at her, and slides the ring on his thumb. It fits perfectly.

They decide to walk to the club; the advantage of living in the party district. Bryce intertwines their arms to keep her steady and them close. He walks on the road side. If she looks like sin, he looks like murder.

"Who did you say is coming?" They are almost at the venue. He can see the neon signs staggering up to it.

"Our usual gang," She shrugs, "Oh and Aelin invited her friend who just got into town. He's visiting for a while."

His muscles stiffen, making his usually languid body rigid as petty rules. "What do we know about this friend?“ Being Bryce's bodyguard came before being her friend and he didn't like walking into situations where he didn't know everything.

"Oh relax you big protector," She turns his face towards her, reassurance radiating through the space between them, "Aelin would never put me in danger. Besides," She wiggles her brows, "Apparently he's cute, and how dangerous can cute boys really be?"

He widens his eyes, all the reassurance flying to the concrete, splattering under his worried footsteps. "Very! They're the worst kind of dangerous."

She laughs, bright and bold like everything else about her. And then they're in front of the club, and the bright purple sign buzzing above their heads sounds exactly like the beginning of bad decisions. He looks to his best friend, catching her own cat-grin. They start the night.

The music is not deafening. It is vibrating. It pulses in time with his senses. The lighting, reds and blues and purples, washes over the world like the moon has its own canvas. He can smell the liquor clinging to the floor, making his shoes slide. Someone passes him, hand holding a laughing person, and the smell of weed makes a garden in his lungs. Everything clings to him: his clothes, cigarette smoke, the heat emanating from writhing bodies. It is addiction in its ugliest form. He is drunk on it.

It doesn't take long for Bryce to find their little crew. She tangles their fingers together and tugs him along, beelining for the pool tables at the back of the space. He can see Aelin's blonde hair, absorbing neon light as it dances past them, and Rowan's platinum mop, glowing its own shade of priceless as he ducks around and pecks his boyfriend on the lips. Lorcan, a frown tucked between his brows, is caught off guard and laughs into Rowan's neck, kissing him back. There are two of them missing, Manon and Elide. He's not completely surprised since Elide cannot be up for long, after the injury with her ankle. What concerns him, is that he cannot spot Aelin's guest.

"Hello everyone," Bryce practically dives towards them, and is lucky that her girlfriend catches her.

He rolls his eyes to hide the panic he felt that she might fall, and then he waves to his friends, arranging his face into one of curious boredom.

"Hello baby," He hears Aelin mutter. He looks away, scanning the club, finding the hot spots.

He can see the drug users on the opposite wall to them, tucked in a corner, laughing hysterically. The ones who are just here to get drunk stick close to the bar, clinging to people, glasses and bottles dangling from unsteady fingers. Dancers are on the floor, already into the swing of things, whooping as songs change and favourites play. The ones that came to relax are on their side, playing pool or darts, some with beer or whiskey in their hands, otherwise lounging and chatting.

"Are you done?" Bryce is by his side again; her face is open, patient.

"Yes, I think we're good."

"So we can get drunk right?"

His lips twitch, trying to keep his amusement contained and failing miserably. "Yes we can get drunk."

Aelin steps between them, a person, blocked by the shadows of the club behind her. Even his enhanced senses can't pick up their form. "Before we're too sloshed to remember things..." She moves to the side and someone steps forward.

Hunt stops existing. His mind is mush, a useless organ, unable to function. His heart is beating a thousand times in a second, actually it's not beating at all. He's not even sure he's standing anymore. It's likely his body has floats away.

There standing in front of him is beauty molded into human form. Golden hair, a deeper, richer shade than Aelin's flows past strong, rippling shoulders. The dark mesh top wraps itself around brown skin which is the colour of watery sunshine, pulling and falling across his body in all the right places. It's transparency reveals a smooth stomach, he knows would tighten to reveal pretty muscle if he laughed... or moaned. Linen pants, black as his own wings, hug the powerful curve of his thighs and the frankly illegal round of his ass. Hunt doesn't even get to his shoes before he's gobbling the male back up, as if he had been starved his whole life and was finally satiated. His gaze catches on dark eyes, hiding the most delicious kind of secrets, hiding pleasure itself.

"Hi," That voice is caramel melting on his tongue, curling around his taste buds, caressing the inside of his happiness. "I'm Fenrys."

He chokes out his own name like it burns him to interrupt his observation.

"Well that went better than I expected." Aelin's muttering comes from somewhere to his left but he isn't paying attention to anything. He can't even if he tried.

Bryce was wrong. This male was dangerous. But not to her. His heart stutters, stops, starts again. He's in so much trouble.

"Wanna grab drinks?" Fenrys smiles. It's like being inside a galaxy.

"Yea, sure." His composure has disintegrated but he can at least respond.

"For us too," Bryce shouts as they collapse on the couch next to Rowan and Lorcan.

They head to the bar, him leading the way. He winces as someone pushes past his wings crushing the feathers. It prickles across his skin. But then they're at the counter and the golden-haired man is next to him.

"What would you like?" He nods a head towards the bottles hanging over them.

"What's going to get us to the dance floor the quickest?"

Hunt smiles, slow and wicked. With a wave of his hand the bartender is in front of them. "Can we get four Angel Bites, two Kiss-Me-Notes and two Mint-Blowers."

"What are those?" Fenrys' eyes are wide as he watches the bartender pull various bottles down and mix concoctions faster than their eyes can follow.

"Do you trust me?" His grin is still wide on his face, more troublemaker than innocent.

The blonde frowns, tilting his head to the side, "I shouldn't."

Hunt takes one step closer, so their legs brush against each other as they move. "Trust me, I'll take you to the prettiest places."

He hums, onyx eyes gleaming, "That's what I'm afraid of."

The bartender places four bright red shots in front of them.

"You ready," He holds the tot glass up.

"Gods no." That grin is delicious.

They throw back the glasses. It burns the colour of luxury down his throat, catching on each taste bud, bumping it's way through his oesophagus. Landing in his stomach like warm beginnings.

"Oh that's good," Fenrys moans. Hunt wants to trace the sound with his tongue.

"Another?" He picks up the second glass.

They shoot it back instantly, letting it warm them like infernos.

"That may be my new favourite drink."

"Want to take these back and get out there?" He gestures to the other drinks lined up before them, blues and pinks swirling in tall glasses.

He responds by grabbing two and walking back to the table, turning back only to offer a wink that nearly puts Hunt in the grave.

They waste no time in delivering the drinks before racing to the dance floor.

This time Fenrys is in the lead, grabbing his hand and pulling them through the crowds until they're almost directly in the middle.

"You know how to dance pretty boy?" The blonde asks against his ear, lips grazing his skin.

"If I say no will you lead me?" He puts a hand on Fenrys waist, noting how they sway to the music unconsciously.

The flash in those black eyes makes him shudder with anticipation. A song that sounds like debauchery starts playing over the fading notes of the previous one and his body goes languid at the same time his skin gets tight.

With a smirk that pierces his burning core, Fenrys cups a hand on the back of his neck and draws them together. One of Hunt's legs going between his.

Fenrys body rolls unto him and his eyes roll back. He grips that undulating waist, skin hot underneath his fingers.

Their foreheads press together, swaying indulgently. Head thrown back, lights highlighting the contours of his face, music bleeding into his soul. And the body underneath his hands moves like liquid smoke, like heat itself. Black eyes are blown with lust. The music eats at their inhibitions.

Fenrys lips find his neck, trace the shell of his ear, press against his jaw. There is no space between their bodies. There isn't even air.

A tongue finds the sensitive spot where his neck meets his collarbone and he bites his lip to hold in a groan. He can feel the blonde smile against his skin and he tugs that long hair back with delight.

"Dance for me Bonito Diablo," He whispers. And then he's whipping the male around until that perfect ass is pressed to his front, back rippling with muscles against his chest.

"You okay?" He whispers, letting his own lips tease their way down that pretty throat.

Fenrys makes an obscene noise as his lips find the pulse on his neck. Hunt smirks and wraps a hand around his throat. He can feel the beating pulse, underneath his thumb, under the ring that glimmers there.

Fenrys moans and the sound goes straight to his cock. With his other hand Hunt holds the blonde's waist and guides their movements as they grin against each other. Where he ends, the other male begins.

A golden hand reaches up and wraps itself in his hair, tugging every time he bites that pretty skin.

There are people surrounding them, uncaring of their position, some in ones as obscene as theirs.

The song changes, bass going low, running through his veins. It only makes him harder, makes his movements more frantic. Fenrys moves against him and it hits his cock at just the right angle. He bows over, head falling to the blonde's shoulder.

"Fuck." He mutters into burning skin.

Fenrys places his hand over the fingers at his waist, smiling like sin. And then he's throwing his head back and they're moving as one, rolling into each other. Every point of contact between them— hands, hair, hips, thighs, back, chest, ass, dick— becomes electric. Every inch of them is filthy.

He can feel the music burning into his soul. He can feel every part of Fenrys against him. Like the ink that spills poetry. They are moving through the world. Against each other. In no way that matters, but gets them where they need to be. His back slams against a wall and he is growling as the othe male licks and invisible salt line up his neck. He moves them backwards, changes their positions as his lips catch on all the sharp angles of Fenrys' face.

"God's your so beautiful," He mumbles, barely coming up to breathe.

The blonde moans, fingers dancing underneath his shirt, reading braille. It is all criminal.

They hit another wall and he realizes in a haze of lavender skin that it's the bathroom.

He shoves open the door with his back and stumbles inside, grip hooked around Fenrys belt. The door swings shut and they are overwhelmed by the silence. It's like stepping into a black hole. Their breathing is hard and loud and so fucking needy.

He cannot believe he sounds like this. He cannot believe he enjoys it this much.

They look at their reflection in the mirror, messy and swollen and flushed. They look fuckable.

"We're nice." Fenrys whispers, stroking a hand down Hunt's erection.

"We're perfect." He nods, gripping the cool tile of the basin as the male undoes his jeans, the friction from the pulling fabric rubbing against him. "Fuck me?" He doesn't know if it's a request or a curse.

"Condom?" Fenrys hand wraps around his cock and he sees sunbeams at the bottom of the ocean.

A sound that isn't entirely human escapes his mouth when that cool, firm grip starts to move.

"Baby," Fenrys smiles, licking at his lips as if trying to coax answers from him. "Condom?"

He groans, fingers going whiter than the counter as his grip tightens. "Back pocket," He manages to growl.

Fenrys swipes the precome at the top of his cock, spreading it around his fingers and then a glint enters his eyes and every part of the angel becomes a star.

"Suck," His lips close, and he can taste himself everywhere.

It doesn't take long to prepare him, and he is a quivering mess by the time Fenrys removes his long scissoring fingers and finally allows him to slide the condom on.

"You ready?" A hand comes up to stroke his cheek, cupping his jaw gently.

He nods. And something inside the blonde cracks on half.

The next second he is being lifted up and pressed against the wall. Fenrys enters him in one swift stroke.

He screams, actually screams as his vision blurs. Everything is so much all at once. He can feel the contact between them like electric currents. He grapples for something to hold before settling on shoving his hands into Fenrys hair, gripping at his shoulders. Moaning into oblivion.

Hunt gasps as the nerves in his body detonate. His fingers, tugging at golden hair, only pull harder as the hard shaft deep inside him attempts to go further. Every stroke brushes against the most sensitive parts of him. Lips are sucking at his neck, soft in comparison to the sting of teeth that comes with it.

"Fuck you're so pretty," Fenrys growls against his skin, thrusting harder.

Hunt bites down on a tense shoulder to stop the screaming ripping at his vocal chords. "Please," He begs, "Please, please, please," He doesn't know what he's begging for.

"What's wrong baby?" That voice is made from silk ties and leather. "You need me here?" Long fingers shove his shirt up, pull at his nipple.

He shudders into a new reality. "Please Fen-" He cannot hold in his scream this time, as those menacing hands wrap around his cock. They are satin heat against his neglected arousal. He cannot think. He cannot even breathe. The hand stays still, torturing him as Fenrys continues to thrust. The wall scrapes against his back creating a delicious sort of pain that travels down his spine and through the place where they meet.

"Please move your hand," He gasps, digging short nails into Fenrys' back. He can' move his body to create some sort of friction because those arms are holding him to the wall like he is art.

"You going to beg baby?" A breathy growl, that elicits his own moan, guttural and raw and desperate.

"Please Fen," He needs to come. He needs to move. He needs to explode. "Please."

A warm wet tongue traces it's way up his neck, before a soft kiss lands under his jaw. And then Fenrys hands are moving slow and sure over his cock and he pushes further into him, harder, more determinedly.

"Fuck," Hunt cries out and in seconds he's sparing through blackness, crashing into oceans, rebuilding and entire galaxy.

He can feel the blonde still moving inside him, gently, comforting. Light kisses shower his clammy skin, drinking in his pleasure like it's an addiction.

He's grateful that Fenrys is still holding him, because right now he doesn't even know if he has legs to stand on.

"You okay, baby?"

He whimpers in response. It's the best he can do right now. Fenrys' cock twitches inside him and Hunt cannot hold in the groan rolling past his lips. Minutes, hours, lifetimes later he is finally lowered to the ground, pressing his back into the rough brick wall as his eyes flutter.

He can dimly hear the music crashing through the speakers, the crowds screaming and rowdy, the world bright with neon streaks. Lips press to his forehead before the blonde steps away, throwing out the condom in a nearby trashcan and zipping up his pants.

Hunt attempts to get himself together, pulling up his own pants and letting his wings flare out.

Fenrys had made him a quivering mess when he'd stroked a hand where his wings meet his back. Those fingers had fiddled and fawned like it was their job. The thought makes his shoulders tense, insatiable anticipation coursing through his blood. He runs a hand through his hair, attempting to tame it into something that isn't an "I've just been fucked" hairstyle.

The blonde looks at him from the mirror and laughs, dark eyes bright, "Here pretty boy." He pulls a black band of his own wrist and chucks it at Hunt.

"If anyone's the pretty boy it's you." He scoffs, pulling his hair into a bun on top of his head. The strands in the front don't even gather, falling into his eyes immediately; he can't be bothered to fight with it now.

He's so focused on fixing his shirt which has crumpled into a mess of hands and heat that he doesn't notice Fenrys intense gaze. When their eyes meet in the mirror there is lightning sparking between them.

"You are so fucking beautiful." He mumbles.

Fenrys ducks his head, and Hunt suppresses a laugh. He had just fucked him into a oblivion against a bathroom wall but being told he's beautiful makes those brown cheeks rosy.

"Come here," It is not a command. It is a request, spoken as soft as flower petals.

He seems himself presentable enough and steps into Fenrys waiting arms.

He can feel their heartbeats, still slightly erratic but slowing with each moment of buzzing content.

"Everything okay _mi corazon_?" He strokes Fenrys back, loving the way the muscles jump and relax underneath his fingers.

"Just wanted a hug."

The club outside is still so distant in the quiet of the bathroom.

"You want to go home?"

"Are you coming with me?" He can hear the smirk.

"I just did."

The laugh that echoes around the room makes Hunt's heart squeeze. It is fresh orange juice and bright morning sunshine.

"Come on angel," Fenrys kisses him gently. "Let's get back out there."

And then they're linking fingers and racing into the club. He is hit with the overwhelming bass running through the floor and into his brain. He wants to live in the vibration.

Fenrys looks back to him as they weave their way through the crowd and red streaks of light catch against his golden hair. He looks like an inferno, he looks like hell, he looks perfect.

And as they crash into the lounger, falling half on top of Rowan, Hunt pulls the blonde close and brushes his lips against his ear. "I did it again." He whispers.

The wolf arches into him slightly as he let's out a breathless sigh, "What?"

"Fell in love."

A thumb brushes against his cheek, swiping at the sun-kissed freckles he gains every summer. "I did too."

"So Aelin just told me you guys know each other?" Bryce stalks towards them, looking completely offended.

They look at each other, sharing a secret smile.

"How?" She demands, hands on her hips, a glare on her face.

"We're exes."

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me all your thoughts, beautiful human!


End file.
